Light Behind Your Eyes
by MoonytheMarauder1
Summary: A collection of PercyDraco drabbles. First: After a hard day, Percy is only too happy to spend the evening with his lover. Latest: The road to recovery isn't easy, but Percy will always stand by Draco.
1. Eternity

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts.**

**Amulets and Talismans Task 7: Write about someone who has vision problems or blind**

**Word Count: 781**

**Note: Percy is visually impaired in this fic, as a result of injury at the Battle of Hogwarts. I've done a lot of research on the topic, but if you think something is amiss please PM me. :)**

**WARNINGS: Mentioned injury, ableist attitude (not shown), slight sexual language**

**Thanks to Grace for beta-ing!**

**Enjoy!**

Careful hands carded through Percy's hair, almost unrealistically gentle. Percy leaned into the touch, which had meant so much more to him since… the final battle. It was odd how much one's life could change in such a short amount of time.

Then those hands were removing his glasses, ghosting over Percy's unseeing eyes. "You're thinking too much again," Draco murmured. "What's wrong?"

Percy let his head drop against the younger man's chest. He swallowed thickly, unsure how to explain that he wasn't really feeling _anything_. The ignorance of others was annoying, but not unexpected.

"I don't know," he said at last. "I don't know how to feel."

The hands stopped their exploration of Percy's face. He hadn't actually seen Draco since months before the Battle of Hogwarts, but he could still picture the way the blond's brows drew together when he was thinking hard about something. "That's not anything to be ashamed of, Percy."

Percy's chest heaved as he breathed in deeply. "Knowing that," he said hoarsely, "and feeling that are two very different things."

His vision wasn't _gone_, after all. He saw massive shapes of blurred color on good days, and less on bad ones. The glasses helped when they could, and Percy was a fast learner; he was getting better at navigating the world each day. He was far from dependent.

But after another day of being treated like he was by various well-wishers on the street and in establishments, he felt like he needed to unwind.

He turned his head to face Draco, who was lying on the bed behind him. "Let's go out tonight," he suggested. "Just to have some fun."

Draco seemed surprised. "It's already late."

"I need a drink," Percy insisted stubbornly. "You've never been inclined to turn that down."

Draco groaned, but obligingly got to his feet. "I can't believe you're making me get dressed again. We'd just settled down for the night."

Percy only shrugged as he hurried over to their closet. He threw a shirt at Draco, then pulled one over his own shoulders. "Muggle pub tonight?" he questioned.

"Fine."

* * *

It didn't take them long to get there. They walked, since Draco hated cars ("I'm not getting into those Muggle death traps, Weasley, so don't even bother suggesting it."), and arrived at the pub shortly.

His hand planted firmly on Draco's shoulder because of the crowd, Percy and Draco made their way through the pub to a table near the back. Draco left briefly to grab them drinks, but soon returned with a beer in each hand.

The noise was a little overwhelming for them both, as neither was particularly fond of crowds, but a discreet charm helped fix that. Percy took a large swig of his drink, already feeling better than he had all day. Now that the music wasn't assaulting his eardrums, he was able to enjoy it. Conversation with Draco wasn't difficult, either, and they discussed trivial things for while.

When the conversation lulled, Percy switched topics. "Thanks for coming out tonight," he told his lover, reaching out to grab the Slytherin's hand. "I know you didn't really want to."

Draco huffed out a quiet laugh. "There are worse things than interrupting a quiet night with your lover. Besides" —Draco's voice lowered— "I know you'll find a way to make it up to me."

Percy grinned widely and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He could feel his face warming, but his blue eyes sparkled. "Do you, now?"

Draco paused to drink before answering. "You've never failed before."

Percy laughed low in his throat, then quickly sobered. "I'm lucky to have you," he told Draco. "I won't pretend the last year has been easy, or the years before that… but it's been easier with you. And better. So much better than it could have been."

Draco didn't respond for a moment. When he did, his voice was choked with emotion; whatever he'd just been pondering, it had brought up a lot of memories. He gripped Percy's hand tightly as he spoke.

"I'm the lucky one," he insisted. "Never… never think otherwise. I wouldn't be the person I am if it hadn't been for you." Then Draco was coming around the table so he could reach the Gryffindor more easily. "And I agree—life's been better with you."

They weren't usually so sentimental, but after such a stressful day, they both needed the words. Percy cupped Draco's jaw with his hand, enjoying the rough texture, then slowly pressed their lips together. Percy smiled through the kiss, which wasn't rushed—but wasn't gentle, either. It wasn't a horrible way to end the day.

It was pretty bloody wonderful, actually.


	2. You're Still Standing Still

**A/N: Hey y'all! This was written for Hogwarts. **

**Care of Magical Creatures Task 4: Write about backing away from something**

**Word Count: 766**

**Thanks to Grace for beta-ing!**

**Enjoy!**

Percy stared at the box Draco had just pushed over, his fork dangling from loose fingers. It sat open on the table and revealed a simple, unassuming gold band.

"Draco, what the actual _hell._"

It wasn't something he'd planned to say—especially not in the face of a proposal—but the words slipped out anyway. Percy couldn't even tear his eyes away from the ring, shocked as he was. Across the table, Draco lifted an unamused brow.

"Well, I'm assuming you know what it is—"

"Of course I do," Percy interrupted, his blue eyes finally rising to his partner's face. "But why is it _here?_"

Draco's voice was surprisingly soft when he answered. "Because I want it to be."

The insecurity would have been successfully masked if the words had been spoken to anyone but Percy. But the Gryffindor knew his lover too well to be fooled.

Exhaling slowly, Percy reached out a freckled hand and laced his fingers through Draco's. They sat there like that for a while, silent and staring at their entwined fingers. Draco's were pale and slim, unblemished by time, war—even sun.

Twenty. Draco had been on this earth for twenty years, and though Percy was only five years his senior, marrying him now almost felt like robbing him of the rest of his life.

"I've never loved anyone as much as I love you," Percy said carefully, resisting the urge to fiddle nervously with his glasses. "But… you're twenty years old, Draco. You've just begun to truly find yourself, and marrying you now would feel like I was… like I was chaining you to me. To something you might not want in ten years."

The absence of Draco's hand was startling. "You don't trust me to know my own mind?"

Percy shook his head, because that wasn't it at all. He knew that if Draco was proposing now, then it was something he'd thought about extensively. But Percy knew better than anyone that ambitions changed, and he wanted to make sure that their decision to get married wasn't a fleeting one.

Slowly, he closed the box holding the ring. It was such a romantic thing, proposing on their third anniversary; it wasn't a gesture gone unnoticed, either. "I'm not saying no," he said softly. He searched Draco's grey eyes for a sign of emotion, but the careful mask was back in place. "I'm saying not now. There's a difference, Draco."

The younger man's lips pressed into a thin line. "Right. Yes, well, I apologize for ruining the evening. I'd _thought_ we were on the same page."

Percy winced at the tightness in Draco's voice. "I love you up to the moon and back," he said quietly. "That's not going to change anytime soon."

"Then why—"

"It's not time for us Draco," Percy interrupted firmly. "It's just not." He inhaled shakily. "We have lots of time, and I don't want to rush anything."

Draco exhaled and ran a hand through his blond hair, looking as though he was trying to get a better hold on his emotions. "I need to go," he said suddenly, curtly. "Work."

Percy recognized the lie, but he nodded, even as his heart sank to his stomach. Draco stood up from the table and left their flat quickly, not even bothering to grab his cloak before shutting the door.

Percy closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose, trying not to feel guilty. Logically, he knew that asking for more time before taking that next step was perfectly acceptable, but the expression on Draco's face as he'd stormed off…

Resigned to his ruined evening, Percy got up from the table to fetch a bottle of whiskey. After pouring himself a finger of the amber liquid, Percy walked into the sitting room. Exhausted to the bone, he lowered himself into an armchair and let his mind wander as he sipped at his drink.

Draco, he knew, would be at the seashore by now, looking out over black water. He wouldn't be able to see the island from where he was standing, but he'd be staring in the direction of Azkaban where Lucius Malfoy was currently imprisoned. It was where Draco always escaped to when his insecurities overwhelmed him, when something scared him, when anger filled him—when any negative emotion became too much to bear.

Percy would go get him in an hour or so, but he knew his lover needed some space at the moment. With a sigh, Percy downed the whiskey remaining in the glass.

The little box was still on the table when he left the flat.


	3. Something to Cling To

**A/N: Hey y'all! Some hurt/comfort PercyDraco for you. :)**

**Word Count: 931**

**WARNINGS: Mentions of war and character death, self-deprecating thoughts**

**Enjoy!**

"I didn't think I'd find you here."

Draco didn't turn around, but a slight tilt of his head acknowledged Percy's presence. "Then why did you come?"

There was the sound of dead grass crunching underfoot, and then Percy's freckled arm was around Draco's shoulders. "I looked in all your usual spots, and it seemed logical, considering the context of the argument."

Draco's grey eyes stared straight ahead at the tombstone in front of him as he flinched; he knew Percy was looking at it, too. "I… I didn't intend to shout at your mother," he said at last.

It was true; his angry words, aimed at Molly Weasley, hadn't been intended. But the dinner at the Burrow had been so tense, and Draco had immediately gone on the defensive. So he lashed out at the person he knew would be least likely to hurt him back.

He should never have brought up Fred, though. He knew that was a mistake. The words still echoed in his head: _It's not my fault that your son is dead._

His face burned with shame. He didn't even know how Percy could stand to be near him—not after the things he'd said.

"She understands why you did, you know. Charlie, Ron, Ginny, and I are all prone to lashing out when things get to be too much—this isn't new to her."

Draco screwed his eyes shut and carefully withdrew from his lover's embrace. "She didn't deserve that, though, and I wanted her—I wanted _them_—" He cut himself off before he could finish. _I wanted them to like me._ He scrubbed at his eyes with the heels of his hands, a heavy weight settling over his shoulders. "This was supposed to go _well_, Percy. All I did was fuck it up."

Percy didn't try to touch him again, but he crossed his arms. Draco noticed that he didn't have his cloak, even though it was the dead of winter, and felt a fresh wave of guilt; he must have run out right after Draco did. "You were wrong to yell," Percy said sternly. "You hurt Mum's feelings, even though I know she'll forgive you if you apologize. But I'm not… I'm not going to let you self-destruct." Percy took a hesitant step forward. "You're not alone anymore, Draco. I want to share your emotional burdens, just like you share mine."

Draco slowly uncurled, straightening his spine and lowering his hands. His cloak was heavy on his shoulders, but he still shivered. He looked around the graveyard, but his eyes always swept back to Fred's tombstone.

Percy was still waiting patiently for an answer, so Draco swallowed thickly. "I'm not good for you," he whispered in a defeated, yet scathing, voice. "They were all thinking it. They were appalled, and they were right to be. I can't" —here, the emotion threatened to overwhelm him— "help but hurt people."

It was crushing, the truth of his words. He'd been raised to strike down those who threatened his position, to belittle anyone less worthy of him—to view others as inferior. Now he was in a different world, and as much as he wanted to be worthy of the man he loved, to be worthy of the love that man offered, he couldn't help but sabotage himself. It was a vicious cycle, but one that he'd had no luck in breaking.

Warm hands grabbed his left forearm and pushed back the sleeve; spent, Draco let it happen. The Dark Mark was cradled by calloused fingers, and Draco shuddered at the touch.

"He made you think this was all you could be." Percy's breath ghosted over the skin of Draco's pale cheeks. "But you're better than him. You're better than his ideals, his words…"

"I'm not—"

"Just—let me finish, please?" Draco nodded hesitantly, so Percy continued. "I don't expect you to be perfect, Draco. I don't want you to change yourself, I want you to _be_ yourself." The redhead let out a low chuckle. "I wouldn't love you otherwise."

Draco leaned back into Percy touch, spent. He closed his eyes and let his head rest against the taller man's shoulder, the energy sapping out of him. "You deserve better," he murmured.

Percy shook his head firmly. "I can't imagine life without waking up to your stupid face every morning," Percy whispered. "Let's go back to the flat; you can apologize to Mum in the morning. She'll understand."

Draco's eyes landed on the Dark Mark. It was a horrible blemish on his arm, and a permanent one, but Percy's words managed to ease some of the hopelessness he was feeling.

"I'd rather apologize before we go home," Draco told his lover. "I think…" He faltered. "That's right, isn't it?"

Percy planted a kiss against the top of his head, and Draco could tell he was smiling. "Okay, love." His hands left the Dark Mark and traveled to the flat planes of Draco's chest, essentially hugging him from behind; Draco sank into the embrace. "One day at a time, yeah? We'll get through this."

Draco didn't trust himself to speak, so he nodded instead. A light pink blush spread across his pale cheeks, whether from the cold or Percy's chin on his shoulder, he didn't know. But as they stood there, alive despite all the world had thrown at them, he couldn't help but hope that Percy's words were true.

"I love you," Draco whispered. Percy's kiss was the only response he needed. They took one last look at Fred's grave before Apparating back home, ready to try to learn from the past.


	4. Take Away the Pain

**A/N: Hey, y'all! Have some more PercyDraco. :P**

**Etiquette Task 1: Write about someone trying to rest**

**Word Count: 1401**

**WARNINGS: Injury, sick/fever, threat of dying? No character death. **

**Note: This is a Voldemort wins!au. (Also, unbeta'd—apologies).**

**Enjoy!**

Draco's heart constricted as he walked into the room where Percy lied. This small hideout that the Order provided wasn't anywhere near the level of luxury that Draco was used to, and he hated having to see the older man sprawled across the tiny, worn sofa. He longed for the comforts of Malfoy Manor, where he could have tended to Percy in a large room with the best medical supplies, on an actual _mattress_.

"W-would you stop lurking and come in?"

Percy's voice brought Draco out of his thoughts, and he glanced guiltily at the Gryffindor. "Sorry," he murmured. He approached the sofa slowly, taking in the other man's pale complexion and the cold sweat dampening his brow. Draco swallowed thickly. "How are you feeling?"

It was a pointless inquiry, but Percy humored it. "I'll be… fine."

He wouldn't be. They didn't know what creature of Voldemort's had poisoned him on the last raid, and Severus Snape was kept close to the Dark Lord's side these days. Long story short, the Order did not have the means to treat Percy.

It was tearing Draco apart.

Why, he wasn't sure. He'd never interacted with the older man much in school, but he couldn't deny that they'd grown fond of each other. Draco had found a fellow outcast in Percy, who hadn't turned his back on the Ministry long before Draco had on Voldemort; they gravitated toward each other.

Except now, the one friend Draco had in the world was dying on the sofa of a tiny, run-down Order safehouse, and there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Well, maybe more more than a friend, Draco thought as Percy weakly grasped his hand. "I'll be fine," Percy insisted again, correctly interpreting Draco's silence as worry. "You'll s-see."

"See to it that you do." Draco tried to keep his voice cold and steady, the way he'd been raised to do—but that Draco Malfoy had shattered with his illusion of the world under the Dark Lord's rule. "Your brothers keep stopping by to check on you. It's highly annoying."

Percy's lips formed a small smile, but Draco wasn't fooled. As much as the ex-Ministry employee appreciated the new effort his siblings were making to reconnect with him, every visit was filled with an awkward tension. No one knew quite what to say to the other, but they all knew that time was short. No one was safe anymore.

His long, pale fingers stretched towards the bandages on Percy's leg. "I'm going to change these," he said. "It'll hurt."

Percy's blue eyes seemed bare without the glasses they usually hid behind, but the Gryffindor had taken them off days ago; sleep was difficult for him to come by these days, and he didn't want to be hindered by the metal pressing into his face. Percy just cocked an eyebrow, somehow still appearing arrogant while feverish and sickly. "I know," he told Draco. "This isn't the first time."

Draco exhaled slowly, his mouth twitching with amusement. "You think you're funny."

Percy began to chuckle softly, but cut himself off as his face twisted in pain. Drao wasted no more time; he unwrapped the bandages quickly, his once-clumsy fingers accomplishing the job quickly.

He kept his face stoic when the wound was uncovered. It resembled a snake bite, except there were three puncture wounds, not two. The area was swollen and the bruising was mottled with an angry red. It was clearly infected, and, not for the first time, Draco wished he could clean it with more than alcohol.

But complaining didn't change the situation, so Draco grabbed a swath of cloth, poured some whiskey—the only alcohol they had on hand—over it, and pressed it against Percy's leg.

The red-haired man hissed with pain, his grip tightening around Draco's fingers. He didn't shout out, though; he was always careful to remain as composed as possible. Draco longed to find the words to reassure him, to offer comfort, but all he managed was: "You need to rest."

Percy winced as Draco tied off the new bandages. "What do you-ou think I've been try-trying to do?" he asked, his voice soft and shaky as shudders wracked his body. He'd been attempting to sound nonchalant, but Draco could hear the fear in his voice, could see the uncertainty in his eyes.

He was tempted to give the rest of the bottle to Percy as a painkiller, but they both knew that that would be wasteful. Draco was burning, suddenly, to give some sort of comfort to the man who had, in all honesty, given him a home.

Draco's grey-eyed gaze dropped to where Percy was still squeezing his hand tightly. He wondered what would happen if he just… turned his palm over and laced their fingers together.

Percy caught his look, but this time, he didn't guess the meaning correctly. He slid his hand away with a muttered, "Thanks."

Swallowing back his disappointment, Draco nodded. Then, he stood and walked over to the cot by the hearth. Even though he knew it was foolish, he couldn't help but blame himself for the hopelessness of Percy's situation; never before had he so regretted quitting Care of Magical Creatures.

Draco curled up on the cot and tried to let sleep take him. The minutes passed by slowly, and Draco remained completely conscious. The harsh rasp of Percy's breathing a short distance away was deafening, and every hiss of pain was like acid to Draco's ears. Eventually, he rolled over to face the older man, his heart in his mouth.

"Wea—Percy."

Blue eyes fluttered open, squinting as they tried to make out Draco's no doubtedly blurry face. "Hmm?"

The younger man wasn't quite sure what to say.

_I'm nineteen now, but I feel just as lost as I did at sixteen. _

_Why did you have to rush into the house we were raiding—why did you choose then to exhibit Gryffindor recklessness? _

_Please, please don't die. _

A flush tinged his cheeks pink. "I'm sorry I can't do more."

Percy was shivering under his blankets, but he still waved Draco over. "You've done plenty," he assured the Slytherin when Draco reached his side. "It's okay, D-Draco." Percy hesitated, then added self-deprecatingly, "It was a stupid mistake on my part. I wasn't care-careful enough." A shudder wracked his body. "I wasn't thinking." He closed his eyes. "This isn't your f-failing, it's m-my weakness."

Draco scowled at those words and dropped to his knees beside Percy. To hell with the emotional masks and secrecy that he'd grown up with; he couldn't stand to let Percy think this way. "You're not weak," he insisted. "You're one of the strongest people I know."

Percy looked surprised for one moment. "Thank you," he murmured. Then he winced in pain, his teeth clenched tightly together as he grabbed at his thigh. "I think," he ground out, "it's g-getting… getting worse."

To his mortification, Draco felt his eyes grow hot with tears. He longed for the Percy Weasley who could wield a wand like the best of them, who came out on top of every duel he participated in. That Percy was independent, healthy, and _alive_. The man before Draco was trembling violently and mere inches from death… He looked away furiously and squared his shoulders, but he couldn't bring himself to move away, even to hide his tears.

"Don't make me give your family bad news," he begged. "Just hang on. Your brothers are searching for information that could help—"

Percy cut him off by sliding his fingers up the back of Draco's neck and into his blond hair, then pulling him forwards until their lips met. It was a quick, simple brush, but it set every nerve of Draco's on fire.

Percy pulled away too quickly. "Sorry," he muttered, his eyes falling closed. "Just had to do that once, in case—"

"Don't be," Draco interrupted, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat. "Don't be sorry."

One blue eye cracked open, then the other; Percy searched Draco's face for several moments before his face went slack in understanding.

With a wave of his wand, Draco brought the cot closer. He climbed on top of it, and, after a brief hesitation, was brave enough to lace his fingers through Percy's.

Both men laid their heads down, and sleep finally took them—however fitfully.

Their hands remained clasped the rest of the night.


	5. Thawed

**A/N: Hey, y'all! Have some PercyDraco fluff to hold you over. :)**

**Word Count: 378**

**Enjoy!**

It shouldn't be such a monumental thing, Draco thinks, but it is.

Molly Weasley—the entire Weasley clan, actually—is watching him with nervous eyes. The matriarch's hands are clasped tightly in her lap, her knuckles white. Draco understands her nerves, but he wishes he could find the strength to tell her that her fear is for naught.

He glances at his fiancé. Percy's blue eyes are full of surprise, but he's obviously relieved; Draco is too. The wool of the jumper, green with a silver D in the middle, warms his cold hands. He's touched by Molly's gesture. He knows how sacred the Weasley Christmas jumpers are, and he's been gifted one.

He clears his throat, failing to find the words he needs to express just how much her acceptance means to him. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, then eventually settles on a very hoarse, "Thank you."

The nervous tension completely drains from Molly's shoulders. She beams at him, her round face flushed with unadulterated joy—there are few things Molly Weasley enjoys more, Draco quickly realized, than being surrounded by her family.

"You're very welcome, dear." She flaps her hands at him and the jumper he's still numbly holding. "Go ahead! Try it on! I _do_ hope I got the size right, Percy said he wasn't sure…" She sends a half-hearted glare at her son, who only smiles sheepishly at her.

With a quick nod, Draco pulls the jumper over his head. Its heat immediately encompasses him, and it's a comforting feeling. He feels safe. Secure.

Percy's fingers lace through his own, and Draco glances towards him. He feels loved, he realizes, and not just by Percy. There is a whole family of people willing to welcome him into their fold, and for a moment, Draco lets that feeling wash over him. _Belonging._

He tucks himself against Percy and clears his throat. "It's a perfect fit, Mrs. Weasley," he tells her.

"Oh, goodness, dear. Call me Molly."

And with that, the last of the cold fingers wrapped around his heart just melt away. The chill of a mostly loveless childhood warms in the presence of the people who would become his new family.

Percy tucks Draco under his arm, and Draco knows he's found security.


End file.
